To ruin an Omega

Chapter 213: Have your cake

FIA

I forced the thought down the moment it surfaced.

It did not vanish. It never really did. It simply sank, heavy and ugly, lodged somewhere deep where I could pretend it was not there. I hated that Hazel could still pull that kind of darkness out of me without even being in the room. I hated that my mind could wander there at all.

Poison…

I closed my eyes for half a second and breathed through it.

No.

I would not let her turn me into something else. I would not let her rot me from the inside the way she rotted everything she touched. Whatever justice looked like now, twisted and compromised as it was, I would not cross that line.

But I had to see her.

That need felt different from anger. Quieter. Sharper. Like a hook under my ribs pulling me forward whether I liked it or not.

The entrance to the lower levels sat tucked behind a narrow service corridor most people never noticed. The moment I passed through it, the estate changed its skin. Marble gave way to stone. Polished light faded into torch-glow. The air thickened, damp and sour, clinging to the back of my throat.

Each step down felt deliberate, like I was choosing this with my whole body.

The corridors narrowed as I descended. The ceiling lowered. The walls pressed closer, rough beneath my fingers when I brushed them. The smell grew worse the farther I went, layered and old, piss and mold and something underneath that made my stomach tighten. I could not tell if it was blood or decay, and I decided I did not want to know.

A sentinel stepped into view ahead of me.

He was standing half in shadow, half in torchlight, shoulders stiff, posture too rigid. His hand moved to his gun the moment he saw me, fingers curling around it like it was the only solid thing he trusted down here.

“I was warned to keep you out,” he said.

His voice cracked on the last word.

I stopped a few paces away and looked at him properly. He was young. Younger than he should have been for a post like this. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes darting just enough to give him away.

“Drop it,” I said.

He did not. The gun lifted instead, not quite steady.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said again, louder this time, as if volume could turn an order into truth.

“I am here to see my sister.”

The word sister felt wrong in my mouth. Heavy. Sour.

“I was told to keep you out,” he repeated. “No exceptions.”

I tilted my head. “And what will you do then?”

His grip tightened.

“Shoot me?” I asked. “Shoot the ruling Luna of Skollrend?”

The title landed between us like a blade.

His breathing hitched and the gun wavered.

I took a step closer.

“Please,” I said quietly. “We both know you are bluffing.”

The barrel hovered inches from my chest. I could see his finger on the trigger now, pale and tense.

“You are welcome to watch me,” I went on. “I have no nefarious purpose.”

For a long moment, neither of us moved. Torchlight flickered across his face, catching the sweat at his temple, the fear he was trying so hard to swallow.

Then his shoulders sagged.

The gun lowered.

He looked away from me, shame flashing across his features before he could hide it.

I walked past him without another word.

The cells stretched ahead, iron bars lining the stone corridor like ribs. Some were empty. Others were not. Shapes shifted in the shadows. Low sounds followed me, breaths and murmurs and the scrape of movement against stone.

Hazel’s cell was at the end.

She was standing when I reached it.

She looked bad. Worse than she wanted anyone to see. Sweat slicked her skin, darkening the collar of her dress. Her hair clung to her face in limp strands, no longer perfectly arranged. Her eyes were bright in a way that had nothing to do with confidence and everything to do with strain.

She straightened when she saw me, pride snapping into place like armor.

“If you are here,” she said, blowing her hair out of her face, “then I have to assume I am no longer in dire danger.”

Her lips curved into a smile. “My grandmother must have done her thing.”

She laughed softly. “Oh, the look on your face right now.”

Her gaze dragged over me, savoring.

“I win again, little sister.”

I stepped closer to the bars and met her eyes. I let myself really look at her. At the cracks she was pretending did not exist.

“You are no Luna anymore,” I said.

Her smile faltered.

“That used to be your pride,” I continued. “Now you are… what? A Gamma?”

Her jaw tightened. “Nothing an upper-ranking marriage cannot fix.”

She lifted her chin. “Look at you. From Omega to honorary Luna of a powerful pack. I will have the same.”

Her eyes sharpened. “But tell me, Fi. What are you without Cian Donlon and Skollrend?”

She leaned closer to the bars. “I can stand as Gamma at least. I am still the beloved daughter of my parents. I have both of them. And a man magnet.”

Her gaze flicked over me, cruel and precise. “All you have going for you is that pitiful look.”

I smiled.

It was slow. Controlled. It startled her.

“But I still threatened you all your life,” I said. “I was still a thorn in your side. My happiness made you grate. You thought I was so pathetic I would never fight back.”

I leaned in until the cold iron pressed against my forearms.

“That is why you are in this cell.”

Her lips parted. No sound came out.

“I will tell you the difference between us,” I said. “I do not need to use a man. I do not need to rely on one for my salvation.”

Her laugh burst out sharp and sudden. “When you slit your own throat to get your mad husband on my case, what was that?”

I tilted my head. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes glittered. “You slit your throat. Remember?”

I watched her hand curl into a fist. Was she trying to corner to me to saying the truth somehow?

“You slit my throat,” I said calmly. “Remember?”

Her breath caught.

“I am not done yet,” I added.

Her confidence wavered, just for a moment.

“Even if you survive this,” I said, “I will ensure you are bitter until the end of your life.”

I straightened slowly.

“But sister to sister,” I went on, “be careful whose hands you hold. Sometimes the enemy of your enemy is not your friend.”

Her eyes widened.

“Gabriel Donlon is no friend of yours.”

Fear cracked through her composure. Real fear.

“Yes,” I said. “I figured he had something to do with this.”

I smiled. “My husband is looking for him. To hang him or behead him.”

Her fingers dug into the bars.

“I imagine he would not be so kind if he heard you were fraternizing with his enemies,” I continued. “A broken hand would be the least of your worries.”

She swallowed hard.

“But I can keep a secret,” I said lightly. “And I assure you, whatever help he rendered, you should be afraid of it.”

Her breathing grew shallow.

“Because his help is probably a noose,” I went on. “Why do you think he got Stratis here? What did he have on them?”

I tilted my head. “And what will he have on you soon enough?”

She shook her head once, sharp and angry. “You are terrified that I won.”

I turned toward the corridor.

“Like I said,” I replied, “I am not done yet.”

I paused and looked back at her one last time.

“I will make sure you become so reliant on a man that you have no choice but to kneel,” I said. “Saving yourself will become your only priority.”

I smiled again. “You will never have the time to look in my corner and ruin me. Because if there is one thing proud and self serving Alphas hate, it is a runt with no prospects.”

Her scream followed me down the corridor.

“What does that mean?” she shouted. “What does that mean?”

I did not answer.

I walked away as the sound of her rage echoed behind me.

This time, the darkness did not feel like it owned me anymore. And I had the brightest idea now.